I don't think I missed a single piece as big as a postage stamp." At this point the trained faculties of the Chief Inspector ceased to hear the voice of the constable.

He moved to one of the windows for better light.

His face, averted from the room, expressed a startled intense interest while he examined closely the triangular piece of broad-cloth.
By a sudden jerk he detached it, and _only_ after stuffing it into his pocket turned round to the room, and flung the velvet collar back on the table-- "Cover up," he directed the attendants curtly, without another look, and, saluted by the constable, carried off his spoil hastily.
A convenient train whirled him up to town, alone and pondering deeply, in a third-class compartment.

That singed piece of cloth was incredibly valuable, and he could not defend himself from astonishment at the casual manner it had come into his possession.

It was as if Fate had thrust that clue into his hands.